Don't Piss off the Janitor
by TheCauldron
Summary: It's about time someone put Galloway in his place. Never would have picked the Janitor to do it though...


**Don't piss off the janitor**

It is a truth universally acknowledged, that every organisation trying to do their job will be infested with the most pitiful and irritating parasites on the face of the planet. Bureaucrats.

It is also known that these parasites will ambush their prey at the most inconvenient times, dragging them into pointless and overly long meetings until their hapless victims roll over and capitulate just to make them _stop talking_.

Now, it should be noted that many bureaucrats do in fact serve a vital function to the smooth operation and continued existence of their host organisation, and it is merely their personalities that make them so completely intolerable to their colleagues. This is something that most of them are aware of, and take steps to mitigate in order to promote a more efficient workplace; after all, you can't file the forms if people hate you to the point of avoiding the required paperwork. But not all are so considerate.

Amongst these reviled ranks, there is a certain being who has managed to earn the ire of not only his own species, but that of a species known as Cybertronians; in particular, the faction known as Autonomous Robotic Organisms, or Autobots for short. This being is the American National Security Advisor, Theodore Galloway.

Galloway was a petty man; with an obnoxiously smug sense of superiority that was completely unearned, and drove those who he interacted with to immediately begin fantasising about punching him in the face. His most recent _modus operandi_ was ambushing ranking soldiers (human and Autobot alike) on their way to the bathroom, and holding them there while lecturing them on every single deficiency or perceived failure he could dig out of their files until the poor victim was shifting uncomfortably and trying desperately to maintain the muscle control needed to not embarrass themselves.

Today's victim was the Commander of the Autobots, Optimus Prime. At twenty eight feet tall, one wouldn't expect the awe inspiring leader to allow a tiny organic to dictate his actions but the Prime was a natural politician and well aware of the power of bureaucrats, and thus heeded the call for his attention despite his already rather urgent need to void his excess lubricant.

Galloway stood before him, hands on hips and chin tilted arrogantly even as he shouted from the ground in front of the Cybertronians foot. He was spouting something about failure rates, but in all honesty, Optimus was too distracted by the alerts flashing on his HUD telling him that his waste fluid container was at full capacity to pay any real attention. He shifted slightly on his pedes, fighting the discomfort growing behind his abdominal plating.

"Are you even _listening_?" Galloway snapped.

"Of course, Mr Galloway," Optimus forced his attention back to the man before him, and fought the urge to squirm as another alert popped up on his display. He could feel the pressure building in his tanks, and began praying to Primus for some sort of divine intervention before he lubricated uncontrollably all over the lecturing man. At this range, he'd probably drown the organic.

Primus must have taken pity on him, because intervention came in the form of a rather torqued off janitor.

"Oi!" The janitor called angrily, storming up to the suit clad man, pushing a wheeled bucket and mop in front of him. His shout had drawn the attention of the other soldiers and Autobots in the vicinity, and many heads turned to see who was ballsy enough to take on the bane of their operation when he was already on a rampage.

Galloway turned around, scowling when he saw it was just some nobody cleaner. He dismissed them immediately and turned back to Optimus.

"Whatever it is will have to wait, I'm in the middle of something!"

"Oh, I bet you are; but I'm the one who has to clean the floors if people don't make it to the bathroom in time! If you want to indulge your omorashi fetish, that's your business, but have a little consideration!" The janitor snarled, getting right into Galloways personal space and arcing up aggressively.

A Japanese soldier in the background spat his drink and choked, quickly whispering a translation to the surrounding soldiers, who pass it on in the world's fastest game of Chinese Whispers. An impartial observer would have been impressed by the accuracy of the message; it was probably the first time since the game was invented that nothing was lost in translation.

"What are you talking about?" Galloway demanded, finally deigning to grace this gnat the full force of his attention.

"I'm saying that ambushing the unaware and forcing them to participate in your little fetish games without their consent makes you a creeper, and if you insist on doing it, then _you_ can clean the floor!" The janitor shoved the mop into Galloways chest, arms waving around dramatically and discretely motioning for Optimus to disappear to the bathroom; a command that the massive robot was only too glad to follow, though not before sending an order to the watching Autobots to record the incident and send him a copy afterwards - because there was no way in the Pit he was missing this!

Galloway spluttered and shoved the mop away, glaring angrily at the janitor. A quick glance around showed that their altercation was the focus of attention for over a hundred pairs of eyes and optics. Curling his lip in disgust, the Security Advisor shoved past the janitor, jostling his shoulder harshly and nearly sending the man crashing to the floor. Pausing and leaning close to the janitors ear, he hissed quietly.

"I _will_ see you fired for this, mark my words."

The janitor watched him leave, a look of bored indifference pasted on his features.

"Worth it," he snorted lightly.

He turned back to the soldiers who are still hovering around, laughing at the exchange or just gaping with awe at the man who had more testicular fortitude than the rest of them combined.

"If you see him hovering around the bathroom again, just tell him you don't consent and keep walking. If a higher up calls you on it, you have a readymade excuse. Also, if he causes trouble, you should remember the power that rumours like this have over a man's career, especially if there is a written complaint filed to lend it weight." The janitor then picked up the mop and disappeared into the bathroom to get back to work, whistling the theme to My Little Pony and leaving behind a story that would one day pass into N.E.S.T legend and be retold on every planet the Autobots would ever visit and get drunk on in the future.

Lennox turned to the head of Human Resources who was conveniently standing next to him.

"Find out who that was, and promote them."


End file.
